First
by not-here-leave-a-message
Summary: Love just kind of sneaks up on you. Family, friends, it really doesn't matter.  It's unstoppable, uncontrollable, so might as well go with it.
1. Naomi

_Right, well, I've no idea if this story's good. I'd like to think it is but I'm the author so I'm a tad bit biased, aren't I? As it were, won't know until I post it, yeah? So that's what I'm doing. :)_

_Rated T because of swearing, um "suggestive" (is the polite way to put it) talk, and mention of underage drinking, etc. You know, Skins. ;)_

_It's a three-shot, the next one's Katie's pov, then Emily's. _

_I'm not British by any extent of the imagination, though I'd love to visit someday. As it is, I did what I could based off the show, with slang and that and guesstimating about what age they'd start to be brave enough to use the more brash words. _

_Also, I did some research, and got myself very confused by the British schooling system and trying to connect it with Katie's talking of middle school. That being said, since Roundview is a fictional college and Bristol is a sizable city, suffice it to say I find it feasible that the middle school these characters attended will also be fictional and will therefore take pupils up until they're sixteen (which some do!), when they'll obviously move onto Roundview. ;) _

_So, enough talk, Skins isn't mine, nor any of the characters I'm borrowing._

_Cheers!_

**...**

The first time Naomi Campbell saw Emily Fitch, she was twelve.

Everybody knew Katie Fitch. Not personally, no. But they all knew her type. Loud, outgoing, generally considered fun, but stuck up and, if you were Naomi, extremely annoying. And everyone knew she had a twin sister. And that she was the most likely to put out when it came to boys. She'd never "not had a boyfriend" since she was seven, a fact she toted proudly and none too subtly, and in fact liked to wear about as an accessory to her printed shirts, obnoxious bows and over-sized handbags. So she had every male's attention within a thirty mile radius, despite the fact that many of them probably didn't even know what the dangly bits between their legs were for. But they knew that they had to be going for a piece of ass or two, and they knew that there was hardly anyone out there more suited than Katie Fitch.

Katie was infamous. But, for the Fitch girl, any press truly was good press, and the rumor mill liked to generate case after case about her. There was one rumor that she had a boyfriend who was in college. Naomi highly doubted that one, though she supposed that she shouldn't. It was Katie Fitch, after all. Another was how she'd lost her virginity at age 11. Naomi thought that obnoxious but it had a bigger possibility of being true. After all, Katie Fitch had made a name for herself, wearing the rumors and rocking them like a second skin or particularly clingy cocktail dress. Boys followed her in awe, girls with envy and just plain ol' naivety. And Naomi had had a class or two before with Katie Fitch. The girl could seem to get away with murder. All things considered, she was the epitome of experience, the brightest star in the bunch, socially, and all around just the girl to be seen with.

That, however, by no stretch of the imagination, made her popular. It made her famous…or infamous. Naomi considered it the latter and as such didn't pay much attention to Katie Fitch…though she knew who the girl was.

As it were, she'd yet to have a class with the younger Fitch twin, the quiet and forgotten one…until now. Naomi walked into class tired and bored, letting her bag fall to the floor and slumping in her seat, and it wasn't long until both a loud, almost barked, laugh and a flit of red hair made her look one row behind her and to the far left. There, in an obnoxious leopard print shirt and rather modest (for Katie Fitch) blue skirt, complemented with a completely tacky and way too large pink bag slung over her shoulder, was none other than Katie Fitch. Naomi could only roll her eyes and groan, but paused as the person sitting at the desk that Katie had her ass on caught her attention. Same red hair. Different bow, much smaller. Neutral, nondescript blouse and knee-length skirt. The Other Fitch.

Naomi could only stare curiously, a rush of warmth overtaking her as she eyed the girl, who looked up at her sister almost helplessly. Naomi bit her lip as she observed. Katie had a small crowd around her, and The Other Fitch? Seemed painfully shy about it. But Katie paid her no mind, hand waving animatedly and spewing words that the girls around her listened to with rapt attention. Finally Emily, seeming to come to terms with the large group and a stubborn sister who clearly was not about to go anywhere, leaned back in her seat and with a huff, folded her arms resignedly.

Naomi was fairly convinced that Katie would stay sitting on that desk all day, hogging it so Emily couldn't put her papers on it or anything, really, with the amount of space Katie was so liberally taking up, but eventually the teacher meandered in and Katie pushed herself off, going to the desk on Emily's right.

It was a wonder, really, that Naomi even knew Emily's name. Sure, everyone knew of The Other Fitch Twin, so much so that she'd even gotten the nickname "TOFT", for when bratty little tweens couldn't be bothered to actually learn her name, Naomi having been among them. But she'd overheard a conversation or two in which "Katie Fitch" and "Emily Fitch" were used comparatively, with "social butterfly" and "very sweet but quiet" used respectfully. TOFT was simply easier, but even Naomi couldn't quell a surge of curiosity upon hearing Emily's name. Was she really that opposite from Katie? Had to be, right? That was the way it worked. Twins were similar and all so people assumed they were similar in all ways, which meant that since that was what was expected, that was not what people got. Naomi had been curious, sure, but not that curious. Katie Fitch wasn't exactly a celebrity, and the world, especially Naomi's, did not revolve around Ms. Fitch and her family.

So it was interesting to see both Katie and Emily, sitting side by side, Katie leaning back confidently as she doodled and answered questions to her exam, her eyes deftly (but not subtly) sneaking peeks at everyone's answers around her, Emily with her pencil's eraser in her mouth, chewing nervously with her molars, eyebrows knitted together in concentration, hunched over the test…and Naomi, with not so much as one question answered, eyes so focused on the anomaly before her.

"Miss Campbell, eyes on your own exam," the professor quipped, none too happily from the front of the room, snapping Naomi out of her reverie. She could feel herself blushing as she looked down at her test, the words blurring together as her mind instantly lost focus and her cheeks became even more enflamed, embarrassed that she'd been caught staring and embarrassed about being embarrassed.

She tried, honestly, to take her test, but the questions had somehow translated themselves to Bulgarian, a language with which Naomi had absolutely no experience. She could only dig her pencil into her desk and bite her lip, furrow her brow and then unfurrow it, before she finally had enough of translating a language she knew nothing about and looking up, eyes gravitating towards The Other Fitch Twin.

Emily's pencil scribbled furiously and then stopped, eraser instantly situating itself where it had been minutes before, between Emily's front right molars. Emily cringed, seemingly unconsciously (and perhaps at the taste of a freshly used eraser) before she put the pencil back to the paper and wrote.

**...**

The first time Naomi Campbell talked to Emily Fitch, she was twelve.

The rock wall outside the school was a popular place for students to wait for their parents to pick them up. Those that were smart ran down the grassy hill and merely had to sit and swing their legs over the wall to be looking down at the sidewalk a good six feet below. Those who were rather thick would take the cement path down to the sidewalk and have to climb up to the top of the wall, using little jetting out rocks as their strongholds to get them up. They'd discovered Robbie Mahoney's coke stash when they'd accidentally knocked one of the stones out one day after school had let out. That had been an interesting day.

As it were, Naomi liked to consider herself one of the smarter students. Not only did she take the grassy path to the wall…she also stayed at school for nearly an hour and a half or more and then went out to the wall, where it was peaceful and empty except for a straggler or two, and the person paid to watch them, who often enough merely sat under the tree a few yards away at a picnic table, reading a novel until everyone had left. Naomi always secretly wondered how much they got paid to do that.

That particular day, though, Naomi was out half an hour after school had let out. The library was boring in that day…her favorite librarian was sick and the substitute was shit. Yelled at her for chewing gum in the library. Tosser.

So she'd left. The wall was still fairly empty for it being only half an hour afterward, and although Naomi technically was supposed to take a bus home, she never did. She either walked or biked, most of the time, but her mother was on a bit of a protective stint since they'd moved into a new neighborhood with "Crime Watch" signs posted willy-nilly about. For some reason Gina seemed to take them seriously, and Naomi's days of getting herself home were over for the time being. Not that she'd ever really gone home alone before. Her new place was pretty far, though her old one hadn't exactly been close. The difference was her old place was on a street where many kids lived. She could usually get one or two to walk home with her, and usually it was a kid named Freddie. She was hardly friends with him, but he was always the one who was around an hour or so after school, having found a safe place for a spliff or cigarette or two, and he had his skateboard (which he was rubbish at) and she had her bike. Between them, it had been more of a mutual agreement that they each served the other's purposes well, and thus would be "homeward bound" buddies. They hardly spoke and then Naomi had moved, and she hadn't seen Freds since.

She sat herself on the cement of the wall, adjusting her butt until she was as comfortable as one could get sitting on solid stone, and after a few minutes of staring at the world, reached into her bag and pulled out a tattered book, with the cover essentially off and useless and holding seemingly more bookmarks than pages. Naomi flipped it open carelessly and started reading.

"What's that?" a quiet voice interrupted, and Naomi looked up, to her right, at the person who was interrupting her, and met dark eyes and red hair.

"Uh," Naomi managed, and Emily furrowed her brow.

"Any good?"

"Not boring," Naomi returned sheepishly, closing the book but keeping her finger on her page, blushing slightly.

"Old?"

"It was my dad's," Naomi confessed, promptly wondering why on earth she'd let that slip.

"Oh," was all Emily said, and they settled into silence, Emily looking down at her shoes and swinging her legs, white stockings pulled high to her knees. "Do you miss him?"

"Didn't know him."

Emily merely nodded, and Naomi managed a half sincere smile, though she couldn't help feeling a tad odd. She'd never spoken to either of the Fitch twins, ever, in her life. She'd no need to. Why on earth would she need to? For Katie to confirm or deny the rumors? The latest one had the school buzzing about Katie's new, older beau…though he was definitely not in college. He was still older, though, definitely, and "fit". Naomi crinkled her nose at the thought.

"I'm Emily," Emily finally introduced, and Naomi nodded.

"Yeah, Emily Fitch," Naomi concluded, and Emily sighed.

"Don't hold that against me, I didn't pick her." Emily said under her breath.

"I wouldn't," Naomi offered, and Emily shrugged.

"Neither would I."

"Emily!" both of them turned to watch as the abominable red-headed, "Sexy!" tee sequined twin walked purposefully over in her two inch platforms, her walk a sashay and her lips pursed, eyes ablaze. "Mum and dad are looking for us, for fuck's sake, get up you twat! We've got to go!" she snapped, grabbing her sister by the arm and hoisting her up. Emily didn't protest, merely stood and started walking away with her grumbling sister.

"Bye," she said, just as Naomi was returning to opening her book. Naomi looked over her shoulder in time to see a small, sincere smile directed at her and a little wave. Naomi's throat closed in on itself and, momentarily, the blonde forgot to breath.

**...**

The first time Naomi Campbell (unconsciously or otherwise) realized she'd fallen for Emily Fitch, she was thirteen.

The falling wasn't instant, like it was in movies. It wasn't quick and it wasn't eyes connecting, thoughts racing, heart palpitating. If fact it'd been quite innocent…so much so that Naomi Campbell had missed it altogether when it happened nearly a year and a half before. The realization wasn't like a brick, either. Wasn't getting hit with a clue by four or walking into a wall or sign or anything so jarring. Nothing painful or heart or gut wrenching, nothing that tore her apart until she started to question what, exactly, had happened.

It was a normal day, much like any other. Naomi didn't find it particularly fascinating, and she was fairly certain that nobody else thought it to be that either. Rather uneventful, with only minor acts of debauchery carried out by the most extreme of cases of slackers and punks, the worst offense being a cherry bomb in a loo that the fuckers had stupidly lit and then thrown in water, thus diffusing it. The only reason anyone was privy to the fact that it happened was because there was a teacher in the stall next to them. Wankers.

As it were, it hardly affected Naomi. Nothing about the day was eventful, absolutely nothing. One of her classmates had gotten better than her on a quiz in social science, and had proceeded to rub it in her face for some reason or another that Naomi didn't particularly give a shit about. Katie Fitch had a new boyfriend, this one in college, and he got her into all of the hottest college parties and even knew one Tony Stonem.

A great air of mystery hung over this Stonem character, with little actually known about him other than the fact that his name transcended all others in the town when it came to parties, and if a person were able to get into a party where Tony Stonem was, they were a fucking lucky bastard. And Katie Fitch had supposedly partied with him. Twice. Thanks to her new boyfriend. Who was "totally fit" (as they all seemed to be) and whom was in college. And not the little lower grade pussies, he was a senior. He bought her alcohol and she became the one person to be around. And she drank the attention up like a fine wine that Naomi knew would be far too pungent for her or for Katie's twin, whom Naomi hadn't spoken with since the year prior, on the wall. Not that that didn't stop them from sharing a quick glance or two in the hallway, or in passing, or anywhere. Of course, upon return after summer break, Naomi had hardly seen hide nor hair of the quiet Fitch twin, coming across her perhaps a total of four times throughout the year, only to be ignored, though not rudely as Emily typically had her eyes to the floor and seemed little inclined to lift them. Naomi had found herself mildly (extremely) surprised when she realized she quite missed their little exchanges and acknowledgements. She'd figured she'd get over it, but a simple nagging in the back of her mind wouldn't let up as she'd pass Emily, and didn't greet her with a smile. It all eventually reverted back to where they didn't even act as though they'd never talked. As if they were strangers. Which, technically, they were. But something about that bothered Naomi and she often couldn't help herself, and would find herself taking alternate routes between courses to her locker or to the loo or something, hoping with the changed paths to perhaps catch Emily's attention.

It didn't work, the new routes proving just as fruitless as the originals as to even finding the younger Fitch, and thus, Naomi did nothing but hold out hope…and stare down the hall when she finally did get a good glimpse of Emily, who, on that particular day, wore a blue bow in her hair that complimented splendidly with her color. To Naomi's surprise, their eyes met down the crowded hall, for a second, but a smile was exchanged and Naomi, for the life of her, couldn't wipe the smile away even after Emily had long disappeared from sight.

But it wasn't even that that tipped her off. It was Katie Fitch who started it, really.

"He's fucking great, let me tell you right now," Katie bragged, loudly, in the hall after a rather pointless assembly. "Sensational in bed too, though mind you I make him work for this shit," Katie nodded cockishly as she motioned to herself, raising her eyebrows proudly, the girls around her hemming and hawing and gawking and swooning and hanging on Katie Fitch's every word. "And the party we went to last night? College only, but I got in yeah, cause my boyfriend's that great!"

"Wow," one girl said breathlessly, and Naomi couldn't help but pause in her walk, eyes catching sight of Emily standing behind her twin, eyes to the ceiling and rocking back and forth slightly on the balls of her feet, looking exasperated.

"Yeah, totally fetch, right?" Katie tossed her hair. "I was so happy with him last night, I let him get to second base!" Katie declared triumphantly, pushing her chest forward to emphasize her point.

Emily's eyes widened incredulously behind her sister's back and, in almost mock-bewilderment, mouthed "What second base?" to herself, looking at the lockers nearest her with questioning eyes.

Naomi had to bite her lip to keep from laughing at Katie, who was completely unaware of the unintentional insult Emily had just flung her way. Emily. Emily had just flat-out insulted her sister…albeit without her knowing, but still. Emily, with her sweet and innocent smile and quiet voice, quiet demeanor and shadow girl to her sister, was fuckin' ballsy.

Naomi felt a rush of warmth as she watched Emily, a swell of pride rising in her chest at the realization. Emily. Fitch. Naomi could only stare and smirk, until Emily looked up and caught her eyes, and, after silent deliberation between the two, broke into a shit-eating grin, which Naomi could only return, another rush of heat shooting through her torso and settling in her chest and on her cheeks.

Emily. Fitch.

**...**

The first time Naomi Campbell kissed Emily Fitch, she was fifteen.

Perhaps it was the alcohol. Or the sweaty teens or the fact that this stupid thing was happening in a basement with the twat's parents not only providing the space and the booze, but a great source of entertainment as they got hammered and attempted to dance with, and like a, bunch of teenagers. Naomi wasn't sure which was worse, attempting to blend and failing miserably or attempting to grind on people who weren't legal yet, and were at least thirty years the adult's junior. Naomi found it rather disgusting and was quite pleased when the parents retired upstairs…so pleased in fact that she held up her (warm) champagne bottle to the people around her and shouted "Cheers!" above the music before taking a long swig. As if alcohol weren't enough to try and swallow, warm alcohol, and warm champagne, at that, didn't tickle her fancy. As it were, she'd already had several shots of something and the champagne was the only unopened bottle she figured she could trust…it was easy enough, after all, to open a screw-top, put a roofie in, and then shut it tight enough that it seemed as though the seal wasn't broken. Paranoid? Perhaps. But Naomi wasn't much in the mood to be roofied, and had taken what she assumed would be the lesser of two evils: a very difficult to open, but ultimately effective, bottle of champagne, which she alternated with a flask of vodka she's snuck from home.

That was all there really was to do at the party, drink or dance. And Naomi didn't dance. She had two left feet and she only danced when she was so wasted, and everyone else was so monumentally fucked, that it no longer mattered, nobody would remember anyway. Most people at the party were far ahead of her, though, having taken a medley of pills and booze and spliff and now simply basking in the effects.

Naomi, however, was several steps behind, the alcohol kicking in but not enough to make her delirious enough to dance with the losers jumping about the stuffy basement.

The only plus side to the entire party was that Naomi had seen none other than Katie Fitch, basking in the attention of several male suitors, all happy and willing to get her something to drink, or to do something for her, all in the hopes she'd forget her boyfriend for the night (who wasn't even there, supposedly) and shag them. Not that Naomi thought she would. Even Katie Fitch had principles…right?

But what really thrilled Naomi, secretly or not, about seeing Katie Fitch was that Emily certainly couldn't be too far behind. Not that she'd seen the quiet girl all night. She'd looked, sure. Sat her ass down on that stupid couch and watched the crowd for hours, eyes attentive but surely glazed, thinking and moping and allowing her mood to grow all the more foul as time passed but Emily didn't.

The entire party was winding down before Naomi even spotted Emsy. The girl was tucked away, close to the speakers which had been turned down quite a bit after an irate parent had stormed downstairs, screamed about trying to sleep and, being drunk, managed to scare the shit out of the few intoxicated persons left dancing, and thus had ended the raving. Of course, that didn't stop people from continuing to party, pills popped, spliffs lit, bottles opened despite the dwindling supply.

She clutched a bottle of Revolución to her chest, cradling it slightly. Naomi couldn't tell from where she was sitting if the bottle was empty, but it was hardly like it mattered. She'd finished off her champagne nearly an hour before and was still riding the drunk buzz, smiling lazily when she finally caught Emily's eye. Emily returned the gesture.

"Hey!" she said, making her way over to Naomi in the darkened room, the smoke from the cigarettes and weed making her look ethereal as she waded her way over passed out people and weaved through a dense clump of people still sober enough to have not collapsed on the floor, but who were probably so out of it that it didn't matter. As it were, the people left standing had turned to either finishing the alcohol, dancing to music only they could hear (or what little was still possibly coming out of the speakers) or snogging.

"Hey!" Naomi greeted, just as happy, grinning widely as Emily stumbled forward and essentially fell on top of the blonde. Naomi involuntarily shivered as Emily's hot breath tickled her neck as the red head giggled furiously.

"Naomi!" she half shouted, through the fog in her mind and the sounds still permeating the basement. On the couch, in the basement, they were alone…but not. Not at all, in fact.

"Yeah Ems," Naomi replied, pushing Emily away. The younger Fitch flopped unceremoniously beside Naomi on the couch the blonde had been occupying all night.

Emily grinned again. "I hate you!" she giggled, tossing her head back. "Jesus, do you know what you do to me?"

"Wha-?" Naomi managed, heart suddenly stuck in her throat.

"Naomi," Emily said, turning to look at her, eyes suddenly dead serious.

Naomi's heart stopped. Those eyes were so dark, so alluring…daring and dangerous and seductive. It had to be the alcohol, kicking in full-force, and the spliff fumes…had to be. Emily's eyes traveled down, up, down, to what Naomi wasn't sure, her breaths coming in quick gasps as she observed Emily's conflicted gaze.

It happened too fast for Naomi to know precisely what happened, yet she knew what had happened. Emily leaned forward, her lips suddenly on Naomi's.

Naomi's stomach lurched, her intestines jumped and her heart, already in terrible condition, stopped again, her breath knocked out of her in shock. And as fast as it had come, it was over, Emily pulling away and then…

Naomi didn't care, at that point, who leaned in the second time, or who came back. It didn't matter. Emily's lips on hers were the only thing that mattered, Emily's tongue, just, Emily. God it felt good. Somewhere in Naomi's mind she knew she was screaming at herself. She was kissing a girl for fuck's sake! She shouldn't…couldn't, but Naomi couldn't focus, all thoughts about not kissing the girl she was snogging pushed or fogged with alcohol and whatever the fuck Emily had ingested. Whatever it was, it was strong, Naomi was dizzy, and she knew against her better judgment that this was what she'd wanted all along.

…And then it was gone. With a simple yet sharp "What the fuck?", everything Naomi had thought was thrown into chaos, and she could only listen, shell shocked, as insults were thrown and Emily's eyes pleaded, somewhere the conversation was registering in her mind, but as she processed, just as fast as it had happened, Emily and Katie left in a flurry, leaving a very confused, completely tipsy Naomi to stare at the wall in utter, unadulterated, blistering loathing, walls crumbling and breaking and raining on her, crushing her.

Shattering.

...

_So, shall I continue?_


	2. Katie

_First and foremost, thank you all for the reviews/alerts/etc. :) Good to know people at least liked it! _

_Right, so, here's Katie's pov. Next is Ems'. _

_I'm sorry if there's disagreement with how I've portrayed Katie, but by the way she is (at least pulls together to be in the fourth series) I feel this could actually be an accurate possibility, and so ended up writing it. Because we don't really see Katie's complexity until later, really, I feel she may be a bitch, but she's got her reasons, and under that is that Fitch heart, yeah? So... whelp, we'll see how you like it, eh?  
_

_Disclaimer: Skins isn't mine. Probably will never be, except perhaps the dvds. _

_Cheers._

**...**

The first time Katie Fitch felt her sister pulling away, she was nine.

Katie Fitch liked tacky things. She would never admit they were tacky, no, and as far as she was concerned they weren't. Over the top, sure, tacky? Maybe. But one would be wise to never say so to her face. Her mother certainly didn't. The woman encouraged such a hideous wardrobe, and even at age nine, Katie Fitch felt the pressure of loving the prints and the pinks and the primps as much as her mother hoped she would. As it were, she hardly knew what she liked anyway. She was only nine, after all. At nine years of age, there wasn't a damn person in the world who knew what they wanted to be, and she didn't give a flying pig about what people said, no one knew. It was merely that simple.

But her mother seemed to know what Katie wanted, and Katie didn't particularly like or dislike the outfits she was handed or that were suggested to her, and, eventually, it'd become a sort of signature, one she hadn't picked but didn't mind. And it seemed to reflect who she was becoming quite well. She was loud, and outgoing, and boisterous (so her father said), and peppy and perfect and a swell kisser, according to every boyfriend she'd ever had. So what she wore should reflect that, definitely. And she figured it did, the leopard, tiger, cheetah, zebra and giraffe skins and prints and large purses and little clutches saturated in glitter or sequins…it was loud, it was proud, it was Katie Fitch and Katie came to accept it, thrive with it.

She'd gotten her first pair of heels from her mother as a spontaneous present, and Emily, being her twin, had received the same pair. Katie's were bright red and vibrant, and Katie couldn't stop altering between gushing about them, squealing, thanking her mother or prancing about in the three inch heels. Emily's were a far more neutral (though not totally dull) blue, and Emily had put them on as well, but like the lackluster of the color of the heels, didn't seem nearly as excited as Katie…instead she seemed thoughtful. She'd merely put them on and examined them as she stood, before looking up at their mother with a large, excited grin and saying "Thanks!", but Katie could tell her excitement was different than Katie's. Which was fine, whatever, Emily could be as excited as she wanted, but Katie was ecstatic, and showed her shoes off to her father, her mother, her baby brother, her sister, and then proceeded to wear the heels for weeks, gaining the envy of girls from every grade in their school.

Katie Fitch was loud and proud, and everyone knew it. And Emily? The girl hardly wore her shoes…at all. Katie was burdened with question after question about why Emily didn't have a pair, did their parents just like Katie better? "They must have" was the simple conclusion, leaving Emily a few steps behind her sister, as she always seemed to be. But Katie didn't mind. She could be loud enough for the both of them, and they both knew it. And she stuck up for her sister when inquiries came to stupid conclusions like that one twin was loved more than the other.

"No you stupid tosser, Ems got a pair too." Katie would correct sharply, sometimes emphasizing "tosser" with a glare or the occasional smack on the back of the head to whomever dared to ask such a ridiculous question. Where Katie faltered, however, was when the question was posed by some little twit: "Why ain't she wearin' 'em?"

That, Katie realized only after huffing angrily at him and turning her nose up, making it known that the question was entirely taboo, was an excellent question. After all, they had been doing the same things for their entire lives. Katie would wear green tights, Emily would follow. Emily would pin her hair up with a red clip, Katie would follow suit. They'd been considered so cutesy and same-like that they'd even, for almost half a year, modeled. They'd been in diapers and their parents picked everything, but the trend had continued even as their sense of independence started to rear its head. In fact just the week before, Katie had thrown on a parka and Emily had simply done the same. It was second nature, it was conditioning, it was expected…it was normal.

"Why don't you wear these?" Katie half asked, half demanded, grabbing the heels from where they lay, untouched, on the floor.

Emily'd looked up from the book in her lap, which she'd been carefully reading for the last hour or so instead of doing her homework, or, more specifically, what Katie was doing, which was trying on different articles in their wardrobe and then modeling them in front of their mirror, trying to decide if it was a presentable outfit to wear to school. She knew for a fact that the modeling would be much better if Ems would join in the fun, but she'd been reading that damn book instead.

"I don't really have a reason to," Emily stated honestly.

"What are you, stupid?" Katie shot back, rapid fire, and Emily looked confused. "These are brilliant! Like, top notch fashion, Ems, wear them." Katie ordered, putting the shoes on Emily's bed. Emily still looked confused.

"What, now?"

"No not now you twat," Katie half joked, rolling her eyes. "Wear them to school tomorrow."

"Why?"

"What do you mean, why?" Katie asked, now as confused as Emily. "Emsy fasha, fasha." Katie said in Twin.

"I know they're fashionable, Katie, but why should I wear them?"

"Because they make me look great so they'll make you look great," Katie stated, as though it was obvious. Because it was.

"But I don't want to wear them," Emily said.

"Emily!" Katie huffed, "Why the hell not? You want to look good, right?"

Emily shrugged. "Yes?"

"Then wear them!" Katie grinned triumphantly.

"But I've no reason!" Emily protested, as Katie'd walked away with her victory. "There's no assembly, no meeting or dinner or something going on at school…and those are nice, Katie, really nice. I mean I don't want to just, you know, wear them. There's no point. They're special,"

Katie stared at Emily, confused again. "Not really, Ems, mum can just get you another pair. Or us another pair!" Katie beamed. "You're such a genius, Ems!"

"Thanks?"

"You're welcome," Katie congratulated happily. "Now just wear them tomorrow, yeah? We'll get them right dirty, and I'll mess mine up a tad too, and we'll get mum to buy us another pair, one for school and one for fancy, yeah?"

Victory was sweet.

Katie happily went about the next day, prancing in her red heels and playing up her walk, trying out a new one every few minutes as she clomped down the halls, admirers and friends following her or talking and laughing with her. All was good in Katie land. Yet she was still a bit lonely. Her other half had had a dentist appointment in the morning, and had, to Katie's utter jealousy, both gotten to sleep in and not go to school until afternoon classes.

So Katie walked with a purpose through the halls, coming to the front office just as Emily emerged, little sticker from the tooth doctor proclaiming how she'd had fluoride and was a great kid for not swallowing the fluoride paste and all that flashing in the fluorescent lights.

"Emily!" Katie exclaimed happily, shuffling forward as quickly as she could and looping her arm through her twin's.

"Hey Katie," Emily smirked. Katie's smile faltered only for a second at the cheeky smile her sister gave her, a knowing one, tantalizing and teasing, sparkling with mischief.

It wasn't until their last class of the day, the one in which Katie paid the least amount of attention, that Katie noticed it. Her sister, just as bored as Katie but much better at hiding it, was swinging her legs as best she could under her desk, and tapping her pen restlessly, the only reason that Katie knew that Emily was bored.

Her pen and legs moved in time, respectively, legs taking longer to swing than a pen to tap, yet they both had a distinct rhythm that only her sister could hear.

Katie found herself subconsciously trying to match her sister's pace by tapping her foot to it, eyes watching incessantly, switching from watching leg to pen, leg to pen. And that was when she realized, after several minutes of doing so, that Emily wore only a pair of flats that she'd been wearing for god knew how long…since she'd gotten them, more than likely. A pair…nay, an old pair. Of beaten up, run-down flats.

Bloody hell.

**...**

The first time Katie Fitch was ever truly separated from her sister, she was eleven.

It wasn't really that big of a deal. A sleepover, really. Katie was invited. Emily wasn't. Ems didn't seem to care. Katie did.

It was her boyfriend, whatever his name was, at the time. He knew a boy who knew a girl whose cousin's friend (or something equally as irrelevant) was having a boy-girl sleepover party and her boy, of course, wanted Katie Fitch to go. Who, after all, didn't want Katie Fitch to go?

It was common knowledge that Katie was a party all in herself. As if what she chose to wear weren't enough, her loudness, her rudeness, and her bluntness made her well sought after, well adapted socially, and filled to the brim with energy enough for a party were enough to convince anyone with a shadow of doubt in their mind that Katie Fitch knew how to party. Not only that, but knew how to party well. It just wasn't a party, birthday or otherwise, without Katie Fitch there.

And Katie knew it, used it full well to her leverage, often scoring invites for Emily, though for the longest time it was known that they were package deal anyway. They were twins, after all, but the older they got, and the more Katie watched as her sister started to become someone she didn't quite recognize (but still loved), the more the school picked up on it, their peers and their friends and their classmates, even their teachers. But they were still a package. Although the guarantee was quick to expire, Kati e wasn't ready for that to happen, and damn well wouldn't let it, and fought hard to maintain their steady flow of invites, and made sure it was clear that they were both invited, or the inviter could expect no Katie Fitch at their party. Some people were okay with that (wankers), but many weren't and Katie couldn't help but reward herself with a self-satisfied smirk at her cunning.

In fact, she was just plain excellent at it. As it were, she was hardly surprised to be invited to the party. She was, however, rather surprised to be requested to not bring Emily. She was torn between fuming at the boy who dared to propose such a preposterous impossibility to her or being only mildly angry at him.

"I don't think you understand, babes," she'd tried, patiently, to explain the package deal to the thick boy, who only grew more irritated by the minute, until he finally just snapped.

"Fine, bring Emily if she means that damn much to you!" and stormed away, grumbling under his breath. At that moment, Katie had allowed herself a triumphant smirk.

But it hardly lasted, as she told Emily how they were going to a party.

"No I'm not," Emily had stated, bewildered.

"Um, yeah you are, Ems, I got you an invite of your own and everything!" Katie joked as she re-applied her Lip Smackers gloss.

It was just a party, really, simple and stupid. Like every other party with people and hidden drinks and sometimes a snuck-in smoke or two, with cake and presents and singing and very important games like spin the bottle and seven minutes in heaven, or truth or dare, made so much better, juicier and interesting, really, by the presence of boys. Which wasn't even a new concept to Katie. Boy and girl parties were rarer at their age than any other, but boy/girl sleepovers were nearly unheard of. Katie'd been to three, and this would be her fourth. She was damn proud to have them all under her belt. It made her the most experienced of her classmates, which gave her (yet another) competitive edge that made her that much better, which made them need her that much more. It was her secret weapon.

It was also Emily's popularity buoy…that and having Katie Fitch for a sister. And Katie knew that Emily didn't exactly enjoy the attention, but they were twins. Katie could handle it for the both of them, and Emily didn't seem to mind. She had a cool factor, fine, but Katie could have most of the credit. Nobody seemed to particularly care.

Yet, despite its old hat status, its piece-of-cake feeling that Katie convinced herself she was experiencing in the pit of her stomach, she was intimidated. Katie Fitch would never admit it out loud and certainly to no one, especially her sister, but she was scared. Insecure. Un-Katie Fitch. She'd shifted uncomfortably in her shoes, looking up at the house, seemingly several times larger than it actually was in the dying light of the sun. She had her hand in her boyfriend's, and he seemed just thrilled to be there, but Katie couldn't keep her trepidation down. She fidgeted, shifting her weight from foot to foot, eyes restless and unable to settle on any one thing. The scary house, the desecrated grass (or so it appeared in her distorted mindset), nothing about the place was welcoming. She felt like she was five again and was being brought to the doctors for a painful shot, only then, she'd had one important person right behind her, more petrified than Katie herself. And it would be that knowledge that would make Katie set her jaw, stand up straighter, defiant, even, just daring the doctor to hurt her. In her doubt, the glimmer of it that would occur as the needle was pulled out and actually shown to her, she would reach back and feel Emily's warm hand grab hers and squeeze it in reassurance.

Emily was her back-up, her rock and she was Emily's everything, wasn't she? It certainly didn't seem to work the other way around.

Katie swallowed, and instinctively reached her unoccupied hand back, and felt a terrible pang of loss as it closed on air. She bit her lip and felt tears well up in her eyes, surprising herself. She hurriedly wiped them away as her boyfriend spoke.

"Well, shall we, then?" he asked, tugging her hand.

Katie could only nod, and, steeling herself without the reassurance she so longed, took the first step, boyfriend in tow, forward to the party…without Emily.

**...**

The first time Katie Fitch realized her sister was gay, she was thirteen.

It wasn't like it was obvious. Emily certainly didn't know it to save her life. The janitor at their school didn't know it. The teachers, the counselors, their peers, their younger brother, their parents, their aunts uncles and various other relatives hadn't a clue. If even the girl herself didn't know, it couldn't be a big deal, yeah?

Perhaps Katie had known all along, although she blanched at the thought. There was no way. Simply none.

It was an ordinary day, much like every other one and Katie did simply what she did best, accept attention gracefully and in a distinctly Katie Fitch way, with poise and a fuck of a lot of attitude, too much for some to handle, but that's why those people weren't talking to her, which was fine as far as the older Fitch sister was concerned. The classes Katie was stuck in weren't exactly bad, just boring and dragging and Katie Fitch did well with neither, although she made good use of the otherwise wasted time by filing her nails, or painting them, or figuring out various designs to doodle her name and her current boyfriend's name on her papers. Hearts and such were far too boring for Katie Fitch. Any nimrod could write two names and draw a fuckin' heart around it. No, Katie Fitch went all out. It took some planning and a while for execution, but when it was finished it was fucking gorgeous, and everyone better believe it.

Luckily, Katie'd managed to move her schedule all about so that she had a good amount of her classes with Emily. They were on uncertain terms, Katie could feel it in the way they talked, the way they walked, interacted, smiled and questioned each other. Katie'd gotten more aggressive, gained more experience (sexually and otherwise), hoisted herself up on a podium by her Jimmy Choo heel straps and stayed there. Not that she didn't have competition. But no one could truly match up to Katie Fitch, though she was now more lost in a sea of students, no longer the only one with experience or practice in a social minefield that had once been inaccessible and illusive but, as they all grew older, became easier and easier to gain a hold of. Katie was losing her advantage, and fast. But she still wasn't too concerned. She had a few years until it would really become a problem, more than likely, and besides, she could always just get a better boyfriend.

She couldn't help herself. Lately she'd been watching her sister closely, watching and making herself painstakingly aware of just how different they were becoming. They no longer dressed alike, a fact that Emily seemed to do on purpose, down to the last detail. When Katie would wear flip flops, Emily would wear heels, when Katie wore heels, Emily wore sneakers or tennis shoes, when Katie wore tennis shoes (a very rare occurrence), Emily wore flip flops, and so on. When Katie wore blue underwear, Emily wore pink. When Katie wore pink, Emily wore green. When Katie wore a skirt, Emily would wear jeans. Where Katie was never without her purse, Emily was never without her binder. Somewhere, somehow, they'd changed, and Katie didn't like it in the least. Who was this girl, and what was happening to her sister? And it wasn't like anyone else noticed this change. In fact her parents applauded it, congratulated Emily on trying to find herself.

Katie knew she should just grin and bear it. For the most part, Emily couldn't hold down the rebellion very long…after all, half the clothes she was wearing were Katie's, and half the clothes Katie was wearing were Emily's. The perks (or downfalls) of having a sister. And they would have to wear the same thing, or something similar, eventually. It was nothing short of inevitable, and that nugget of truth kept Katie from snapping at her own sister every time she would decide against one article of clothing and switch to another because of Katie.

And, sure, Katie might have been being just a tad bit like a tit, assuming that it was all because of her that Emily was changing, but she couldn't help it. She was the elder, after all.

That didn't stop the nagging feeling that quipped at her to stop being so selfish and perhaps open her eyes to see what was in front of her. Katie didn't want to listen, though, and nobody, not even Katie Fitch herself, could keep Katie Fitch from not doing that which she didn't want to do. But she couldn't help but examine her sister as they sat in class, Emily having moved several seats away from Katie.

She didn't want to sit by her, fine, but Katie couldn't help but feel a little odd. Her sister was always…close. But lately they were drifting…Katie didn't want to think of it. So she pushed the thoughts down and merely watched as Emily tapped her pencil eraser on her desk, before flipping it over in her fingers and starting to draw.

Emily was notoriously not the next van Gogh, but she wasn't too bad, but Katie liked to think her doodles (designs) were far better, but Emily veered toward still life anyway. Katie straightened in her seat to catch a better glimpse of what Emily was drawing.

A simple soft line and long waves with her pencil. Katie couldn't really make it out, but she couldn't help but feel she really didn't have to. After all, who was on Emily's binder? Bunch of famous people (women) and cartoons. What posters did Emily have on her wall at home? One hot guy, the rest? Three guesses. Who did Emily take more note of as they walked down the hall? Certainly not Brom "The Strong" Staten, and not Nate "I'd Like to See You Naked" Nathanielson, or even Pete "Big P" Oswald. She'd smile at them sure, and they were pleasant to her, as she was Katie's sister and all, and Katie was who they were really after anyway. That had to be it, right? Emily didn't pay them any attention because they didn't pay her very much either.

Even that, however, Katie knew, shouldn't be enough to persecute her sister, to slap a label on her, especially so early, she could be entirely wrong! Katie Fitch had been wrong before, sure, and she could be wrong about this, about Emily, about her other half…

Katie sighed. She knew better. Even if Emily didn't.

**...**

The first time Katie Fitch decided to protect Emily Fitch from herself, she was fifteen.

Katie knew it was the wrong time to be smug. Such the wrong time, the worst timing on the entire fucking planet, the worst timing in the entire fucking universe, in the bloody fucking fourth dimension! The worst timing in the history of timing but Katie Fitch simply couldn't help herself. It was a smugness that came with being fully aware it was going to happen eventually, knowing full well it would likely be soon and would likely be before Katie or Emily or their family was truly ready to deal with the repercussions…especially Emily Fitch. Katie, Katie'd had time to prepare…that's where the smugness was coming from, oozing from her pores as she dragged her sister through the party, her mind working on overtime, smug and trying to think at the same time how to do damage control…

Emily certainly wasn't known for her subtlety and from that day forth Katie would never call her sister subtle ever again, and decided she'd beat the shit out of someone who insisted otherwise…or hell, insisted the same thing. Because if someone came up to her after she furiously cranked the rumor mill in her and her sister's favor and told her Emily had been none too subtle at that party the other night where she'd snogged that blonde girl and had initiated it, she would have to get them to shut up somehow, now wouldn't she?

"Shit, fuck, wanker, tits, Jesus fucking Christ!" Katie swore loudly, and quickly spun Emily around, pinning her to the wall and, with a forced ferocious glare and noise. "What. The fuck!" Katie spat, and Emily shrunk, crippled under her sister's intense, and what Katie knew was filled with loathing, death glare.

"Ka-"

"What the fuck, Emily?" Katie thundered, loud enough that she knew anyone who was even remotely paying attention would be turning to look at what was going on. Even in her slightly intoxicated state, Katie could feel them and knew the importance of her and Emily's audience. "Jesus Emily, what the fuck?"

"I-"

"Did she kiss you?" Katie cut her sister off.

"Wha- no!" Emily practically shouted, lurching forward as if physically burned. "I-"

"Did." Katie hissed, quietly yet loud enough for anyone close to hear. "She. Kiss. You?"

Katie hoped Emily got the damn hint, but her wasted sister seemed utterly confused. Katie could read her like a book, watching her expression as it went from confusion to anger at having told the truth (almost) and being shot down.

Because Katie knew what she saw. She wasn't sure she'd honestly saw it coming, she was so occupied chatting to a fit chap who was showing all the flirty signs of liking Katie, even if only for a night. She had a boyfriend, after all. And it wasn't like she was her sister's keeper, not anymore. In fact, her and Ems had started to split in a way that hurt Katie. They weren't getting along near as well as they used to, and Katie, in an attempt to make it seem like she really didn't give a flying fuck, had become a bit arrogant, standoffish, even. But it wasn't like Emily was being reasonable, either. Their conversations were becoming more and more constrained, with Emily eventually settling on absolute silence while Katie would ramble and, finally, sick of being ignored, would start shouting or snapping to get a reaction, any reaction, out of Emily. She felt like a petulant little child, acted like one too, but she didn't particularly fucking care. She was Katie Fitch, after all. Damn it, no one ignored her, especially not her sister. And if that was what she wanted, then fine. Katie could play that game.

She knew her logic was skewed, but her pride forced her not to care, fucking up their relations even more. And the more that Emily seemed to get mad or angry with Katie, the more Katie felt the need to show Emily that Katie didn't need her to have fun. She had her boyfriend, she had her booze, her pills, her parties and her sex and her friends and she didn't need her stupid sister too.

So she hadn't kept her eye on her sister all night. In fact they'd split almost the instant they got to the party, Emily to god only knew where and Katie to the boys and the booze and the dancing, eventually finding herself in a dark corner with a wicked cute guy who kissed like nobody's fucking business. Then the boy had disappeared and Katie went in search of more booze and another suitor, and so the night went, hour by hour, until she'd found herself danced out and sober enough to stand up straight without tilting about, and then talking to the boy whose name she didn't care to remember. He was sweet, if intoxicated, and funny and entertaining, so Katie figured she could eventually put herself to sleep if she talked to him long enough.

A flash of red that was Emily caught her eye as her younger twin walked by, empty bottle in hand, eyes focused intently across the basement. Katie didn't pay it much attention. If Emily wanted to get fucked up, whatever. There probably wasn't any alcohol left anyway.

"So who's ya favorite band, love?" the boy asked, stretching a hand behind his back and flexing, a cockish grin splitting across his face.

"I-"

"Love them!" he shouted.

"Yeah," Katie said, torn between amusement and being insulted for him interrupting.

He talked and Katie pretended to listen. The things he said weren't interesting, and if he wasn't so damn hot he wouldn't be speaking to one Katie Fitch, who was too distracted for it to truly be considered talking to her anyway. So she hadn't been keeping track of her sister, yeah, but Emily was taking a fuck of a long time to get booze, unless she was looking really fucking hard.

"She kissed you?" Katie shouted, fuming. "Fucking lezza!"

"Katie!"

"What, Ems? Jesus she kissed you, seriously? Fucking bitch, trying to take advantage of you! Always knew she was a perv, that…"

Katie had to pause, and blink, surprised. She didn't even know the girl who'd Emily been snogging. They went to school together, sure, but that didn't mean she knew. Katie hardly knew anyone unless they mattered, and the blonde certainly seemed to just stay on the fringe.

"Blonde!" Katie finished lamely.

"Naomi," Emily corrected.

"Yeah, her. Fucking hell!"

"Katie," Emily pleaded.

Katie knew she should take pity. The thoughts that must be going through Emily… Katie could only imagine. She herself hadn't dwelt on them, wouldn't dwell on them. No, she couldn't.

"She kissed you, right Em?" Katie asked, softly, quietly.

Somewhere, somehow, Katie hoped that'd gone through.

"I-" Emily started, taking in a shaky breath. "Yeah. She, uh…kissed me,"

The last part was nothing but a slur. Katie should have smiled then, triumphantly, smugly. Because she knew the truth, because no one knew the truth at this point, because the rumor would be around school in a tic and Emily Fitch's reputation would be rescued while whoever the blonde girl was…hers would burn.

But that was fine. Because Emily was safe. All that was left, was for Katie to convince herself that what she'd said, what she'd started, was true...or at least keep it going for as long as needed, keep the rumor fresh, the wound open to keep the both of them quiet. As she looked at Emily, who looked away, she knew it would be easier thought than initiated.

But…anything for Emily.

**...**

_Right, well, there it is then. Katie's logic is skewed, yes. Almost like a mother, in a way, trying to protect her sister from the evils of the world and that... Thoughts?_


	3. Emily

_Thanks to all for the reviews/alerts/etc! :)_

_Alright, third and final part, from Emily's pov. _

_Well, as it turns out, Brits don't have/get "cooties" and the boys apparently aren't going to Jupiter or are from Mars and the girls aren't from Venus or however the school rhyme goes. It's been a while since elementary school... Also, no stork bringing the baby. Curiously the internet wasn't as helpful with British schoolyard insults and whimsies so... :/ Did what I could, then. _

_That being said, I did my research (and found out the above) and as such modified this best I could without altering it far beyond the original. Cheers. :)_

_Skins isn't mine, none of the characters are either, etc. This story is though, in case you hadn't picked up on that quite yet... ;)_

**...**

The first time Emily Fitch realized the difference between the bird and the bees, she was seven.

It was more than just boy and girl. Boys and girls were simple, any moron with eyes could see the difference. Boys had short hair, girls had long. Some boys had long hair, though…they were weird. And some girls had short hair… Emily didn't much like it simply because, couldn't their parents tell what they were? It wasn't too difficult, although at age seven, they all sounded the same when they spoke, all had energy and all looked the same covered in mud and twigs and such. Except there were very few girls willing to get in the mud at age seven. Perhaps earlier in life they weren't so reluctant, but as they grew, as their clothes got fancier, as the boys and girls started to seem as though they were from different planets, as boys started to follow their older models and girls started to follow their own, the line between boy and girl was less and less blurred and the few people who dared to stay close to the line, blurring it as best they could with their mud pies and multi-colored knick-knacks, and silly insults and childishness, weren't quite labeled odd but weren't quite norm, either.

Emily was on that line, and she quite knew it. She didn't mind, though, it was a nice line. Her friends were there, too, and as much as she loved to play dress up with her sister, she also liked to take her pretty pink dresses for a good run through the mud as it formed while they all frolicked through the sprinkler on a hot summer afternoon. Even Katie would join in, and it was bliss. She could be a girl and be a guy, all in one. It didn't matter. All that mattered was the water and the sun and the mud and her dress.

Emily didn't much care about boy or girl. If the person was nice to her, what on earth did it matter? If they shared half their peanut butter and jelly at lunch, or if they traded their cookies for her grapes, or flung their Jell-O at the person next to her, subtly giving her a thumbs-up to show they meant nothing if it'd accidentally hit her, or called her Katie and then shrugged nonchalantly, not caring if they'd gotten it wrong, just wanting to play. Or if someone shared their crayons, or helped her with her work, or said something funny…it didn't matter if they were a boy or a girl.

Katie, for some reason, liked to discriminate, slowly buying into the notion that all boys were odd, except the really fit ones, like her first boyfriend, who was actually friends with Emily first (as if it mattered) and had actually shown her how to find Batman's face on an American dollar, which he kept in his tiny Velcro wallet, from his trip to the US a year previous. Emily had been nothing short of impressed, both by the dollar and the Batman hidden on it, having seen the movie one night, sneaking in and watching it as her father slumbered on the couch. In their excitement they exchanged their favorite things, Batman not being mutual (except the cool factor of him being on the American dollar), but their love for various activities bonded them.

Technically, Emily knew, being in primary school meant more business than play and mud or about building and play time and making new friends with anyone that spoke to her. It was about 'rithmetic and reading and learning things like why the sky is blue and where babies came from, though she'd been informed that that was a bit advanced for her year. But she looked forward to the day she'd learn it. Because, really, her mother was of absolutely no use on the subject, always coming up with nary an answer whenever Emily chose to pose the question.

Of course, it was common knowledge that as they grew, things would start to happen. Emily's mum had explained it one day when Emily had asked curiously about Katie having a boyfriend.

"You see, Ems," her mother had started, glancing in the rear view mirror as they drove home from grocery shopping, Katie not with them due to illness that Emily was whole-heartedly going to devote her entire afternoon to alleviating, starting with the soup she'd begged her mother to buy.

"Things will change, yes. Like, Katie will probably not have a boyfriend long, and you know why?"

Emily could only stare, wide-eyed.

"Because boys will start to get…oh goodness, what did Margie call it? Cootles? No, oh! Cooties."

Emily furrowed her brow. Margie, her mother's elusive American friend. She knew little about the woman, or her expertise with children, for that matter, though if she knew of an ailment that her mother didn't, surely she couldn't be all bad…

"What's that?"

"Oh Emily, don't be silly, they won't really. But you'll hit a phase where you'll stop wanting to hang out with them, and it'll be just the girls for a while, sort of like a butterfly in a cocoon. And then, one day, you'll all grow out of the cocoon, and be older and wiser and fitter than ever, and you'll look over and the boys won't have…cooties?" Jenna scrunched her face, "Well, they won't be odd anymore and that…that is when you'll start dating them, for real."

"So Katie's just ahead of everyone?" Emily guessed, and her mother chuckled.

"Katie hasn't seen the oddness yet," her mother supplied, but Emily didn't believe it for a minute. She'd been around boys her whole life, why would they suddenly come down with the…well whatever it was? And could she actually see the change? Surely not!

Emily mulled over what her mother said.

"Will we be fit like the actresses and stuff?" she questioned.

Jenna laughed. "Yes dear, maybe."

Emily nodded. "And the boys too?"

"Yep."

Emily couldn't help but stare. She was trying to see the changes or ailment or whatever her mother had talked about on the boys as they walked by her, or around her as she walked down the street, a few paces ahead of her mother but not far enough for the older woman to panic like she had that one time in the department store when Emily and Katie had hidden (rather deftly) in a round rack and giggled so obnoxiously loud that just about the rest of the store found them without too much difficulty.

She clutched her twin's hand, happy for the comfort, glad for her other half, but completely distracted by passersby, boys of all ages and shapes passing without paying her really much attention, save for a double-take or two as her and her twin walked down the street. She knew she was wide-eyed as she watched them, walking. Some wore their hair funny, one man with completely different colored eyebrows and more hair by his ears than that on the top of his head; some wore funny track suits or slacks or just suits, or jackets. Some wore jeans or shorts…but none, as far as Emily could see, wore a single cootie…though she couldn't be one hundred percent sure what exactly that was.

And none really looked sick, except for the old man sleeping on the bus stop bench with thin rubber tubing wrapped over his ears and going up his nose, hooked to a big tank-thing. But he was too old to have the cooties, right?

Even the boys who were her age, or younger, or slightly older, looked the same as they always did. Emily examined them as well and as in-depth as she could while walking past them at a brisker than normal pace. They had places to be, after all. A Fitch Family lunch was in their imminent future, and, to enhance the bonding experience (or to feed their father's new obsession with fitness) they were walking to their destination.

It gave Emily time to observe and conclude that perhaps this "cooties" was an American ailment only (as apparently only the mysterious Margie had heard of them,) but was not present in England, and certainly not Bristol.

A theory which Emily had to retract when they arrived at the restaurant and took their seats, both her and Katie sitting as close to each other as possible on the square table, pushing their chairs practically together.

It caught her eye from across the room…the alleged "cooties".

Their drinks had come; the waiter gone and letting them decide what they wanted, Emily quite fancying mac and cheese off the kid's menu, Katie deciding likewise…that's when she spotted the disease.

She wasn't sure how she'd missed it, exactly, but her mother was wrong in her description of what it looked like. It didn't occur while girls were cocooned, or whatever her mother had said, it happened when guys were cocooned. Because there was no difference, really, between girls and boys in primary school, save for their hair. But something happened to boys. They got wider, thicker, Emily observed as a table several meters from theirs was occupied with a boy and girl, the boy large and bulky yet still much the same shape as the boys in her school, and the girl smaller and…far more interesting. He was handsome, yes, but he hadn't changed much from what the boys looked like in her year. The girl? Had changed a lot. She was shaped a lot different. Curvy, and had those tits things that Emily's mother had, and that Emily realized nearly every boy lacked.

Her mother had been wrong. Girls weren't cocooned. Boys were. In those cooties. And it stunted their growth.

Emily couldn't help but pity the poor boys.

**...**

The first time Emily Fitch saw two girls kiss, she was eleven.

The park was always beautiful. She'd far outgrown the kiddie playground, or she liked to think, but secretly she knew she would never outgrow the swings that one day would be too big for her bum, or the slide that was barely two meters long, or the squeaky little dinky animals on springs or the spinning saucer. But she certainly hadn't outgrown the puddles that formed on the concrete paths during and after a rainstorm, or the benches, or the squirrels, nor the green grass or…well, she hadn't outgrown the park. She quite loved it, actually.

Mostly for the puddle jumping, but also for peace and quiet. Her mother didn't seem to mind letting her explore the park by herself (although oftentimes Katie was with her, along with a lot of their friends), but Emily could find a way to get away from them usually every time, and nothing pleased her more, at any age, than just wandering through the park and, in new rain boots, jumping in puddles.

Which was precisely what she was doing, stomping unceremoniously to the chagrin of her twin sister, who glared every time water splashed over her clogs and got them wet, to which Emily would only smile goofily and apologetically before jumping to the next puddle.

"Might as well jump in 'em too, Katie," Emily suggested finally, a cheeky grin splitting her face.

"No." Katie wrinkled her nose.

"Okay." Emily said with a shrug, and jumped again.

Emily didn't care if she was being immature, or whatever Katie was more than likely calling her in her head, not that Emily knew or anything…although it was basically written all over her older twin's face. But, filled with child-like glee, and she was, after all, still technically a child, she could find nothing to care about except leaping and landing and getting herself even more soaked than she already was, trying to make every splash more spectacular than the last, trying to make it go up past her knees and, on occasion for the larger puddles, past her waist. She was successful on both endeavors…on Katie. She herself didn't really receive the fruits of her labor, but Katie's face was more than enough to make up for it.

At school, Katie was in her prime, always. It was her natural habitat, to be surrounded and doted over and talked to and about, to be looked at and speculated about…Emily wasn't like that. They both knew it, but Katie liked to deny it, while Emily merely let her. But…outside, in the air and particularly in the rain, Emily felt like she was exactly where she was supposed to be. She wasn't sure why, but she hardly ever loathed the rain…only once, when it was a horridly cold day and the rain was dreary, not cheery rain, the rain that came with black clouds, not light gray ones…a driving, torrential downpour as opposed to a mist or sprinkling, or even just plain raining.

Emily secretly hoped that everything in her life that was important would happen in the gray-cloud type of rain. She knew it was naïve to think about, but there were times when she frolicked happily through the rain that she could only hope her first kiss would be in the rain, that she'd get her first car on a rainy day, and it seemed fitting that her first heart break should occur on a day with black rain clouds.

It was preposterous because Emily knew the weather wasn't controlled by what was happening in her life, but a girl could dream, and dream she would, no matter what anyone said or what she constantly reminded herself to be reality…fantasy was so much better, anyway, and could be fully indulged in in the quiet solitude of the park on a rainy day.

"Emily, stop!" Katie growled, soaked through by a particularly large puddle that Emily jumped in and had sprayed her sister all the way up to her chest.

Emily shrugged apologetically and, without warning, took off sprinting, making her footfalls heavy as they fell into puddles, grinning gleefully at her own immaturity. Her socks where soaked through and more than likely filled with more mud than feet, and her sky blue tights were a murky green, her skirt clung to her as she ran and her t-shirt had random splatters about it that ran down as rain falling from the sky washed it…sort of. Her hair was a wet sopping, unkempt mop but she didn't care, Emily Fitch was free and wet and that was fine with her.

It was simple. A quick peck on the lips. Emily Fitch fell straight on her butt, catching herself off guard when she hit what felt like a physical wall in her running (but was nothing but air), feeling the wind knocked out of her as she tripped and somehow fell backwards, butt in a puddle and eyes searching quickly through the rain, finding what she's spotted, but the couple had moved, gotten up, both drenched, and walked away, hand in hand, until reaching a fork in the path, and, with another quickly show of affection, parted, one with her long black hair falling out of its ponytail, the other with her highlighted hair matted to her head.

"Emily, what the bloody hell?" Katie thundered.

"Huh?"

Katie finally reached Emily and yanked the younger girl up.

"What the hell?"

"Nothing," Emily said, eyes still on the spot where the two figures had parted.

It wasn't that it was weird to see…she'd just never seen it before. But it seemed natural. Sweet…it seemed like love.

The first time Emily Fitch realized she had a crush, she was fourteen.

It was common knowledge, through the telly and the movies and the advertisements and the books and her classmates and their older siblings and stories told and passed from generation to generation, that when someone really liked someone else, when a boy really liked a girl or vice versa, there were signs that let that person know that, in case they doubted what their head was telling them, which apparently many did, their heart and their bodily responses would help to convince them.

There were the usual suspects…butterflies in the stomach, heart jumping into their throat, foot ending up in their mouth as they tried to talk to the person they liked, heart rate increasing, face flushing whenever the person was mentioned, fidgeting when the person was around, mumbling a lot, staring…all good and dandy, but Emily didn't have any of them. So there.

But everyone else seemed to. Katie included, though Emily highly doubted that her sister actually felt half of what she said she did. Most of the time, Emily could only roll her eyes as Katie told their peers about how her current boyfriend made her giddy and mellow at the same time. Such a terrible contradiction, yet Emily seemed to be the only one who could discern that fact. Everyone else simply swooned and asked for more details, which Katie all too happily obliged.

They'd only talked perhaps ten times, less than half of them decent conversations in which they truly learned something about each other, but Emily couldn't help herself when she saw Naomi Campbell…she merely had to smile. But she didn't see Naomi a lot…the younger twin was often distracted or in her own head. Distracted by Katie or their friends or both, or thinking far too much about this or that, staring curiously at things as she would contemplate.

She wasn't much of a thinker by any stretch of the imagination…she was simply quiet. Her thoughts weren't complicated, weren't monumental and certainly weren't philosophical, and in fact were quite mundane and nothing special, quaint observations that she paid little attention to, like a child finding a stone, turning it over, and then moving on. She wasn't much of an observer, either, though she did have eyes and could see a lot of things…but other times, she felt like she was staring at an impossible puzzle. She would try and figure it out until frustration got the better of her and she gave up until a later time, if she even remembered.

When she did see Naomi, though, and they caught each other's eyes, they'd smile, politely, and Emily always took a few seconds longer than was necessary, or so she thought, to stop smiling. She wished that she and Naomi talked more, but Emily was hardly alone, her sister always at her side…and although it had been easing, they still stayed together, for the most part and definitely at school, much to both of their chagrins.

As it were, she knew she was being irrational to want Naomi to be her friend and not Katie's, but sometimes Emily felt she deserved to be a bit selfish. Katie had been branching out and being quite selfish herself, stealing Emily's clothes and such, leaving Emily with less of a wardrobe choice until, when Katie wasn't looking, she snuck into her clothes and dug some out. But not as many as Katie took, because Emily wasn't like her sister. Even though Katie took hers, she couldn't justify taking Katie's, and as such only half-heartedly fought her sister's growing personality.

School could be where she could escape her sister for a little while. They shared far fewer classes than when they were younger; something Emily was either eternally grateful for or slightly perturbed by, depending on her mood. Usually it didn't matter, though, as she had two classes with Naomi, where they'd had their more in-depth conversations, though they were never partnered for projects and didn't really speak outside of class, Naomi in her own circle of friends, Emily in Katie's shadow. But still, Emily settled for the smiles in the hall, however quick they were, Naomi usually breaking them and sometimes frowning to herself as she walked away. Emily paid it little mind, but sometimes as her mind wandered in class, it would drift of its own accord to the blonde girl. Sometimes questioning the small frown, sometimes contemplating her blonde hair, was it dyed, wasn't it? Did it really matter? The way she bit her lip when she was unsure or embarrassed, how she sneered when someone said something she didn't like, oftentimes while she was eavesdropping. It would entertain Emily and she'd often find herself grinning right in the middle of class.

Of course, she thought of other people too. Just things they did that amused her, or were interesting. One of Katie's friends always wrapped her gum around her finger when she was talking to Katie…and only when she was talking to Katie. Emily didn't feel like delving into why, it was simply interesting.

Emily sighed as she doodled on her open notebook, keeping herself occupied until class was dismissed and she walked out into the hall to find her sister. It was just an automatic reaction, really, once class was over, find Katie, feel inferior for a few minutes, go to a new class, rinse and repeat.

She found Katie holding her boyfriend's hand and talking obnoxiously loud to the few people around her, though she was speaking loud enough for half of Bristol to hear how sensational she was at hand jobs, reinforced by the boy on her arm, who nodded enthusiastically.

"Emily,"

Emily looked up at the teacher as he tsked her, loudly, before turning around and writing on the board, some rubbish about the book they were reading that no one had actually read. She could feel her cheeks redden slightly as her classmates whispered quietly amongst themselves, some eyes on her.

"That's enough," the teacher said sharply, not turning around this time.

Perhaps it was the way the dreariness of the day hung over them all, threatening to release a torrent of rain at any minute, yet, having not done so all day, losing much of its credibility, that made Emily stare. Had to be, because it was this weather that had the light perfect. That left the wall fairly open as kids hurried to their buses or parents who awaited them, the children not wanting to get rained on. Emily stood with her arms folded, by herself, thankfully, as Katie was off "Doing study group", which meant snogging her boyfriend, and possibly doing a bit more, in some empty stall or closet or other.

Emily, as it were, could only tilt her head and bite her lip, eyes softly taking in the person meters and meters away from her, reading the book that she seemed to be reading always after school, the one that was her absent father's.

Something about Naomi when she read that book was different than other times. Her gaze was different, lost, almost. Thinking, not really reading, simply processing, perhaps concentrating more on the former owner than the words on the page. Her brow was furrowed slightly, lips thinned and pursed just barely, and she was absorbed. Completely and totally immersed, despite not reading. Somewhere in that book, Naomi Campbell let her walls fall and was no one other than who she was…

She was vulnerable. A state Emily hadn't seen Naomi Campbell in…well, ever. Her blonde hair was a perfect hue in the odd light, her eyes just slightly bluer than the clouds and Emily Fitch could do absolutely nothing but watch, powerless, as Naomi processed.

Her bag, which said something quite witty on it that Emily could read from where she stood, was open, her books peeking out, as was typical when Naomi sat and read. She seemed completely unconcerned by the weather, perhaps not even aware of it, so focused she was on the book, yet her eyes weren't moving. Her teeth started working her bottom lip unconsciously, and a rush of warmth spread through Emily. It wasn't unwelcome, just odd, but pleasant, spreading through her as a sense of pride settled over her, gaze never faltering from the blonde girl. The heat rose within her again, and, swallowing, she finally tore her eyes from Naomi and looked down at her shoes. Thongs, she'd chosen to wear that day. Simple and good in rain, though they could get a bit dodgy, as they were cheap and had actually broken twice already, and were none too good at protecting wet toes from the cold. She wiggled her toes and looked back up.

Naomi wasn't looking at her book, she was looking out, and from the angle Emily stood, it looked as though she were surveying all of Bristol.

Emily folded her arms, watching the back of Naomi's head, as she turned away when she'd looked up from her book. Her eyes travelled down, taking in Naomi's rather baggy shirt that went all the way down to the wall, hiding her pants, but Emily knew she was wearing them. She'd seen them earlier.

As she watched, Emily felt a smile tugging at the edge of her lips, turning one side up into a half smile. She didn't have to see Naomi's face to see the pensive eyes, how they would look, how her nose would be crinkled as though she'd caught a whiff of something foul, eyebrows knitted, if only slightly, and mouth a thin line, perhaps squinting.

Naomi turned, and Emily's smile dropped as she saw the look on Naomi's face.

It was exact. Exactly what Emily had pictured, though with one eye squinting a bit more than another as her light source moved.

There were no butterflies, no heart palpitations… A rush of warmth and a realization that Emily Fitch was thinking perhaps a little too much…

"Bloody fuck," she whispered, the sound lost to the gentle breeze.

**...**

The first time Emily Fitch kissed a girl, she was fifteen.

Alcohol lowers inhibitions and raises bravery…though those two could be considered the same thing, it was considered general knowledge that consumption of alcohol could lead to many symptoms, including but not limited to word vomit that simply kept coming and coming no matter how much the drunk person thought to themselves "Shut up!", hitting on anything that moves, divulging secrets, texting horribly but with information that could be and would be sensitive and kept secret if the person wasn't drunk, walking horridly, being far louder than one was supposed to ever be, confusing facial expressions for amusement and finding amusement from it, being stupid, and, finally, kissing the one person, the person the drunk party had a crush on or was in love with or some rubbish.

Emily, even in her intoxicated state, knew that. Knew what trouble she could be getting herself into, but she figured in a party so big and with people she didn't know, even wasted, she couldn't be stupid enough to hook up with someone or anything, especially with Katie around, although she'd hardly seen her twin since they'd arrived.

Later, she would say it was the MDMA that had been going around the party, that mixed with alcohol was a lethal concoction that could make anyone do any number of stupid things, and that too was fairly well known. So it only made sense to blame the drugs that she didn't take, and to play up her drunkenness as she'd searched the party for someone to kiss. Because one girl had been on her mind far too much and all she really wanted to do was get monumentally fucked and get a good snog, to the point where she could pretend she was kissing who she wanted to without actually doing so.

That was really the only reason she'd agreed to the party anyway. A kiss. It was simple and if booze was involved than that was just a plus so there were no strings. Katie'd done it before, Emily figured she could easily do it as well. A quick snog or two or four and a lot of alcohol and Emily would be satisfied. Or so she told herself.

She didn't know where the urge came from. Maybe just to know what it was that everyone was on about. Because sure, she'd kissed a few boys, in cliché places like under the bleachers or during an innocent game of spin the bottle when she was younger, but she certainly didn't see sparks or fireworks and the earth certainly hadn't stood still, warm fuzzies hadn't popped out of all of her pores and really, the only thing the kisses had been were wet and sloppy.

The drunker she got, though, the more she forgot that minor fact, how unpleasant she'd found snogging in the first place, and the more determined she became, dancing with anyone, really, who cared to dance with her, taking whatever drink was offered to her, eventually stealing one of her suitor's full bottles and taking a long swig while swaying to the music and just reveling in the drunk.

As it were, she hadn't found any one person to snog with. There were plenty of fit and attractive people and she'd seen her sister with several of them, to which she crinkled her nose and refused to even entertain the thought of snogging those people. Not that she could keep track of them, though she tried valiantly, until eventually her drunken mind concluded that Katie had kissed every male at the party and that meant that Emily simply had no choice but to go for a girl.

The prospect was exciting. Emily had never kissed a girl, Katie had never kissed a girl. She could not only gain a new experience, she could actually have some form of tryst that her sister didn't. It was a thrilling thought, to say the least, though if she ever cared to admit it to herself, that thought was actually the entire reason she even went to the bloody party.

Still, the (she convinced herself) novel prospect made her smile and look around the party as it wound down. And then she'd found blonde hair. And gray eyes looking at her, and Emily Fitch sauntered over as well as one could saunter when completely bladdered, smiling the whole way.

Until she reached and hugged Naomi and shouted her name, slurring it slightly but rather unaware of it, and fell on the couch next to the blonde.

Until she (loudly) asked if Naomi knew what she did to Emily.

Until her lips were on Naomi's and fireworks, fuelled by alcohol, ricocheted in her stomach, bouncing excitedly and escaping, crackling into her limbs.

Until she pulled away and returned for another kiss…

Until she was pinned against a wall, someone shouting at her so loud that she could only wonder how the fireworks had turned from warm to hot as pain shot through her back when it hit the concrete wall.

And Katie was yelling at her, loudly, asking her questions and swearing, Emily answering as best she could and failing miserably as everything started to spin out of control…

One minute she was in bliss, the next she was ripped away from it and shouted at for kissing a girl…she'd kissed a girl.

Not just any girl, Naomi, at that.

"She kissed you, right Em?" Katie'd hissed, and Emily, hit so suddenly with the weight of what it was she'd just done…what her reaction meant (did it mean anything?) and how this…how she being…

Shaken, Emily lied.

She was still tipsy as she stared at her ceiling that morning, lying in bed and looking up, Katie fast asleep after walking them both home, as she was the more sober of the two.

She was conflicted. She had been drunk, it wasn't really that big of a deal if she was drunk, right? Because people did silly things when they were drunk that made for funny stories that people could laugh about later and joke over and poke fun at each other with…so hadn't Katie over reacted just a tad? Or had she? Was it an overreaction, or was the alcohol what gave Emily enough courage to admit to herself, sub-consciously or otherwise, that what she really wanted wasn't what Katie wanted, wasn't what she was expected to want and certainly not what most girls her age wanted?

It made her head hurt, an inevitable hang over well on its way, and Emily could do nothing but observe her room in silence.

**...**

_And that's it. Thanks for stopping by, I do hope you enjoyed. Leave a review if you so please on your way out. Or don't, up to you. :)_**  
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